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Chapter 12
“Say something.”
Julieann shakes her head as she studies the screen of my phone. “I don’t know what to say.”
Sunday dinner is being set on the table by our parents in the other room as we speak, so I don’t have a lot of time. I wasn’t going to say anything, but when I trudged into the living room and plopped down on the couch, beer in hand, Jules sensed something was wrong.
I thwarted her questions for a good fifteen minutes, but we’re twins, and she’d sooner buy waterfront property in Arizona than she would my bullshit story about work bothering me.
“I’m going to watch it again even though I don’t want to,” she says of the shaky-cam video shot by the stroller-mom yesterday. It hit Twitter, then Tumblr, then was picked up by a gossip blog or two. I don’t normally pay attention to that shit, but I’ve been educating myself. Allie texted me a link and thanks again for your help.
That pissed me off. I didn’t respond because I can’t figure out why it pissed me off. Hence me spilling my guts to my sister, who’s wrinkling her nose at the very graphic kissing scene she’s watching.
“This is staged?” she asks, not believing it.
“No.” No sense in throwing up a smoke screen she won’t believe for a second. “Not for me.”
“Jackson.” Pity seeps into her voice. I’d rather her rail at me and tell me I was an idiot. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her.
“Don’t.” My voice is stiff, unwavering.
“Kids!” Mom yells. With no time to argue with Jules and a healthy desire to avoid this conversation completely, I stand and start walking into the dining room.
“Jackson, you’re playing with fire.”
Julieann’s assessment stops me cold. She joins me where the living room connects to the dining room. A big bowl of brown rice and an enchilada casserole rest in the center of the table. No parents, but I hear them discussing whether or not to make guacamole “real fast” in the adjoining kitchen.
“I don’t want her to hurt you like she did the first time,” my sister says under her breath.
“Despite our parents talking to us like we’re still ten years old, I’m not a kid anymore, Jules. I know what I’m doing.” I squeeze her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Stop trying to console me.” She squeezes my shoulder and now we’re facing each other in an awkward hand-to-shoulder standoff. “I’m not the one in danger of having my heart re-broken.”
“She didn’t break my heart.” I drop my arm, but Jules catches my hand and holds it like I’ve just been diagnosed with a terminal disease and it hasn’t sunk in yet.
“Jax. I saw what you went through.”
“Which was what exactly? You’ll have to enlighten me because I don’t remember having an overwhelming reaction to Allie’s leaving.”
“Oh, it was terrible,” my mom comments as she bustles in and sets a tub of sour cream on the table. “You really don’t remember moping around?”
“The guys at work giving you hell and habañeros because you were moping around?” my dad supplies as he places a cloth napkin on each plate.
Of course I do, but it’s a blow to the ego that Jules—and apparently Mom and Dad—believe I could crash and burn again when it’s been over a decade since it happened. It’s insulting.
“He’s seeing her again,” Julieann tells everyone. The traitor.
I let out a growl.
“That’s wonderful!” Mom brightens.
“He needs to be careful,” Julieann says as she takes her seat.
“He’s a grown man.” We hear from Dad.
“Thank you. Yes. That.” I give him a supportive two-handed back-slap as he sits and then I take the seat next to him. “I’m not a teenager. I’m an adult and this is my business.”
I wince. Nothing sounds less grown-up than inferring the phrase “it’s none of your business.”
